


let's go out with a bang!

by lonelyheartsclub_com



Category: Murder Most Unladylike Series - Robin Stevens
Genre: Autistic Daisy Wells, Autistic George Mukherjee, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28958865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyheartsclub_com/pseuds/lonelyheartsclub_com
Summary: it's 1968, and not everything is normal in the small town that daisy wells lives in.
Relationships: Alexander Arcady & George Mukherjee & Daisy Wells & Hazel Wong & Amina El Maghrabi, Alexander Arcady/Hazel Wong, Alfred Cheng & Harold Mukherjee & Amanda Price & Henrietta Trilling & Bertie Wells, Amanda Price/Henrietta Trilling, Amina El Maghrabi/Daisy Wells, Bertie Wells/Stephen Bampton (past), Enid Gaines/Lettice Prestwich, Harold Mukherjee/Bertie Wells, Katherine "Kitty" Freebody/Rebecca "Beanie" Martineau, Lavinia Temple & Katherine Freebody & Rebecca Martineau, Verity Abraham/Henrietta Trilling (past)
Kudos: 10





	1. the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> tw// murder, shooting

_ Friday 13th March, 1968. _

Verity stared into the glass of the flower shop, mentally taking notes of what kind of flowers would be prettiest for her date with Henry tomorrow. 

She turned to leave, when she heard footsteps. People had been after Verity since the end of February, and things were starting to get stranger and stranger. 

You see, Verity was not normal. 

She could do things - things no one had ever seen before. She could read people’s minds. The footsteps got closer, and she could hear a chorus of, _ “Kill Verity. That’s all you need to do. You can do this, Rosemary.” _

Rosemary was the name of Verity’s mother. She shook it off. There were several Rosemarys in her year. But she was a tad more focused on the fact that this person - Rosemary, wanted to  _ kill her. _

Verity slipped out of her shoes, and started running. Her feet tread on the damp floor, but not as loudly as they would’ve had it been she kept her shoes on. All she had to do was get to Henry’s and ask to stay the night. 

She took the shortcut, and yet those footsteps and the chorus in that person’s mind were both following her, hanging over her like a haunting ghost of sorts.

The footsteps started to gain, and the person’s thoughts started to loop.  **_“KILL HER, KILL HER, KILL HER KILL KILL KILL KILL-”_ **

Verity’s head was pounding. This person’s thoughts were so abrasive, so brash-

She started to run. It was her first instinct. The rain was coming down, sticking to her hair, the cold sweat that had started to form matting down her hair more. 

_ No, no, please, not like this- _

She was nearly at Henry’s. She could already smell Henry’s mother’s warm hugs, Henry’s soft kiss in front of her parents, who “just couldn’t get over how sweet they look together!” and she kept pushing, and pushing and she was almost there when there came an agonizing snap and she went down. 

She hit the floor hard, dragging herself along the floor. She tried to stand, but she couldn’t. 

“ _ HENRY! HENRY, PLEASE COME HELP ME! I LOVE-”  _ she shrieked, only to feel a cold, sharp edge in her side. She began to sob.

_ “You will shut up. I know you can hear me.”  _ The voice sounded familiar, so fucking familiar-

It was her mother. 

Verity turned, so she was facing up. She began to count the stars in the sky. There was a particular constellation that reminded her of her and Henry’s first kiss, because they were stargazing before they returned to Henry’s house. She traced the lines that Henry had, counting with a,  _ 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3- _

Rosemary walked towards her, each step more agonising than the last, a gun in her hands. 

“Mama, don’t do this,  _ please- _ ”

She knelt down and leveled the gun to Verity’s head. 

Verity looked for any hint, any trace of remorse, any sign of relenting. 

Nothing. 

She could hear Henry, in her head. 

_ “Where’s Verity? Haven’t seen her in ages. Really want to tell her I love her and just hug her...Something about this year so far has been off.” _

Verity wanted to scream. Henry was close enough for her to hear her thoughts. 

“H- HENRY!” she screamed. Rosemary cocked the gun as Henry thought,  _ “Is that Ver? I’ve got to help her-” _

Then Rosemary pulled the trigger. Henry screamed and ran towards the sound of the gun, but it was too late. By the time Henry had gotten there, Rosemary had escaped, there was a gun in Verity’s hands and she had a bullet hole through her head to match. 

Verity had always thought herself a good person. No matter how many girls she had laughed at, or all the substances she’d taken. She also always thought herself a bright star with major potential. 

But she supposed that the brighter a star burned, the faster the wick would hit its limit. 

She also supposed that the higher a star was up in the sky, the more cataclysmic its fall would be.

Verity supposed she would live to see another day. But she was wrong. 

-

Henry supposed Verity would live to see another day. But she was wrong. She let Verity’s killer get away, and she let Verity’s very clear murder be pronounced a suicide because, “she was holding the gun!”

Henry still remembered how her mother rushed out of her house, speaking Creole, telling her father to get the defibrillator and telling Henry to call the police or stand back. Henry ran, ran as fast as she could back into the house, and instead she bumped into one Harold Mukherjee and Bertie Wells. 

Harold looked panicked, and Bertie’s eyes were red-rimmed. “Henry? What happened to Ver? Why is she laying on the floor like that?”

Henry turned to face Bertie. “Someone shot her.” she ran back into the house, calling the police and explaining everything. Along with the police came Alfred Cheng and Amanda Price, who both did illegal things from time to time and were worried about getting arrested. 

“What happened? Why are the cops here? Am I going to get sent back to Hong Kong?” Alfred absent-mindedly asked, not seeming to see all the blood on Henry’s hands from cupping Verity’s head in her hands.

“They killed Verity, Alfred!” Henry shrieked. 

The memorial service was a horrid affair. People coming up to Henry and saying they were sorry, as if they were the one that put the gun to Verity’s head and pulled the trigger, saying they were sorry as if they actually gave a fuck.

Ever since the day of Verity’s murder, Albuquerque had changed. The small town in Gloucestershire no longer felt safe, and people were pulled out of school, and there was a curfew imposed. 

None of that shit would’ve saved Verity. 

Henry’s parents pulled her out of school because she wasn’t focusing and because they were scared the murderer would go after her next. 

Rosemary Griffin, Verity’s mother, moved away. Said she couldn’t bear to stay there without her little girl. 

And they ruled her death a suicide.

It shocked Henry. They had seen the gun in her hand, but didn’t stop to dust for prints. The gun was put in a ziplock bag down at the station and never opened again.

And just like that, the town had moved on from Verity Abraham, stopped whispering, “That poor girl,” as Henry went past, and went back to calling her things that had nothing to do with sympathy. Difference is, Henry didn’t care.

Soon enough, Verity became “the girl that couldn’t bear to keep going,” and she became a sign for mental health.

Except it was all fucking bullshit.


	2. daisy's hatred is justified.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a 15 year old daisy wells does not trust stephen bampton, her brother's boyfriend. after overhearing a phone call, a lot happens from there.

Daisy Wells didn’t trust Stephen Bampton. He was short, and stocky, and he grinned at Bertie in such a strange way it made her feel sick. 

Stephen Bampton was Bertie’s boyfriend, and every time he came over, Daisy wanted to run. He’d sling a long arm around her, talking about how she looked just like her brother and how she was so pretty. 

Except today he didn’t have time to compliment her. 

Daisy was on the phone with Hazel, walking through town square, on her way back to her aunt and uncle’s house, when she caught a glimpse of red hair and the slither of a harsh tone, and she hung up on Hazel, reassuring she’d call back later. 

Daisy was a detective, she knew how to tail people. She cursed silently, wishing she hadn’t brought her heels and she’d brought her flats instead. 

So she followed him, all the way back to the Mountfitchet-Wells’ house, where he stormed in without a word. Lucy cowered in the doorway, clearly trying to recollect herself. 

“Stephen! Darling, Bertie didn’t tell me you’d be coming around!”

Lucy always told Bertie what she thought of Stephen, and Uncle Felix agreed. 

They hated him. 

_ “Bertie, darlin’, I know you like him. But there’s something off about him,” Lucy would warn, as Stephen left the house after doing strange things with Bertie, and Bertie would get angry and claim Lucy didn’t know Stephen, not the way he did.  _

_ Felix nodded. “I won’t tell him to stay away from us, or anythin’ like that, but something about him...Like Lucy said, there’s something wrong.” _

_ Daisy swallowed as Bertie turned to face her, begging her with his eyes, as if to say, “Tell me you like him, Squashy. Please.” _

_ She turned away, and Daisy wanted to cry at the gasping noises that were so very clearly Bertie’s pained sobs at the fact that his family didn’t like the man he loved.  _

He frowned and said nothing, but clearly recollected. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Mountfitchet. Just had to talk to Bertie about something.” he said, smiling kindly. Lucy smiled back, but it was that frigid smile reserved for strangers she secretly didn’t like, her eyes crinkling slightly in distrust. 

His smile disappeared, and Daisy supposed her...meeting with Amina could wait.

Daisy Wells did not trust Stephen Bampton, and today was the day she realised that it was valid and justified, and she had a good reason to distrust her brother’s boyfriend.

She quickly followed after Stephen, pulling out her recording tape after greeting her aunt and uncle. 

Stephen was on the phone with someone. 

_ “I’ll do it soon. I’m breaking up with Bertie, God knows I’ve had enough of him and the fuckers he hangs around with for company. I want him dead.”  _ Stephen hissed into the phone, slamming his finger on the hang up button. 

Daisy’s heart dropped.

Stephen wanted to kill Bertie. Daisy ran past him, and her heart sunk as he grabbed a hold of her hand, his long fingers snaking around her wrist and tightening their grip like a chain. 

She tried to cry out, but it was like something had crawled into her throat and forced her not to speak. 

She tried to wrangle herself away from Stephen, who had started to tighten his grip around her neck to the point of strangulation. 

Daisy shook her head, begging-

“Stephen?” It was Bertie.

He glared at his boyfriend, who took his hand away from Daisy and tried to explain. 

“Bertie, she was coming onto me, it was self-defense!” Stephen lied, and Daisy scoffed, rubbing at her neck. What a load of  _ bull. _

“Stephen. Don’t fucking lie to me. My sister is a lesbian.” Bertie hissed, grabbing Stephen by the wrist and pulling him out of the house. 

“Bertie, where are you going? Stephen, he’ll-!”

“Not right now, Daisy. I’ll deal with this.” 

***

“What the fuck was that? Was it really the other way around? Stephen, were you trying to touch my sister-”

“Fuck, no. She heard something she wasn’t meant to.”

“And what was this, pray tell?”

He pulled out a knife. “It was my plan to kill you, of course.”

Bertie’s eyes widened, and he stumbled back. “What happened to us, Stephen?”

“Nothing. I never loved you. I only made it my mission to date you so I could kill you. Be thankful I decided to be kind to you, Bertie.”

“Oh, wow.” Bertie breathed. Stephen brandished his knife. “I gave you my first everything and you lied to me?” Bertie asked, in complete disbelief. 

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart.” He mockingly pouted, in that way he tended to, and Bertie felt sick in that one moment. He really was stupid enough to give Stephen all of him. 

He shifted back as Stephen walked towards him, each step echoing in his mind. He picked Bertie up by the lapels of his shirt, and there began a struggle of Bertie trying to get away from the knife’s edge. 

“NO, YOU DON’T!” A voice came, and there was a  _ swish  _ of a bat and Stephen went down. Daisy stood there, brushing her hair out of her face. 

Bertie backed away from his ex, who had blood dripping from his head. 

“Did you kill him?”

“Of course not. I hit him in the back.” he got up, well, really, he dragged himself across the floor towards Bertie, and Daisy stood on his knife, picking it up. She pulled out her walkie-talkie. 

“Gang, it’s an emergency. Meet me by the alley, you know the one.” she muttered, and Stephen scoffed. 

“This isn’t one of your little escapades, Daisy. What are your friends going to do?”

“We,” she started, pulling Stephen towards her by his lapels. “are going to interrogate Bampton.” he tried to shuffle away as the sounds of bicycles got closer and closer and out of the shadows emerged Hazel Wong, George Mukherjee, Amina El Maghrabi and Alexander Arcady. 

“Ah, Watson, Amina, I’m glad you could make it! You too, I suppose, other associates.” she finished, looking at George and Alex. Bertie desperately wanted to call his friends. Specifically Harold. 

Stephen moved for a moment, and Bertie could see the flash of silver in the pale moonlight. 

“Squashy, watch out!” but it was too late. Stephen slashed at her leg, and she started bleeding and fell back. He stood up and slashed at her again, before Alex pushed him back and grabbed the knife. 

Bertie stood up, taking his shaking sister in his arms. She was bleeding - oh, God, so much blood. He picked her up, and she frowned. 

Then there were the sound of footsteps. 

“Wong Fung Ying, it’s late! You shouldn’t be out here, Vincent’s gonna kill-” It was Alfred, Amanda, Harold and Henry behind him. 

“George, what on earth? It’s late.” Harold chastised. Bertie fell to his knees, and he sobbed and Harold rushed over. 

Amanda took Daisy out of his arms, and Henry pulled something out of her pocket that looked like bandages, and Alfred pushed Stephen up against a wall.

“Was it him that did that to Daisy?” Alfred asked, voice dangerously low. Bertie nodded, Harold’s arms still around him, his comforting words still snaking their way into his ears.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Alfred snarled at Stephen, and he laughed. 

“Alf, just call the police. He tried to kill me.” Bertie sobbed, and he let it all wash over him again. 

“No, we have to interrogate him.” George said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and regarding Stephen with a curious look. “Why did you want to kill him, Bampton?”

Stephen laughed and said nothing. Hazel picked up the bludgeon, and she handed it to Alfred. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” he warned. It was a bluff - Bertie knew. But Stephen didn’t. 

“Because he’s different. The way Verity Abraham was different. You’ve all got those freakish powers-” he stopped talking, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t. 

“Powers? Talk, Bampton!” Henry asked, looking up from her bandaging. 

He shook his head. 

George very calmly sighed. “He’s not going to talk anymore. He’s obviously a pawn in a bigger game of chess. He’s said far too much.”

Alfred irritably swore. “And how do you know that?”

“He seems indoctrinated. Simply an observation. But if you would like to be indefinitely arrested, please do keep threatening to kill him.”

“Who’s side are you on, for Krishna’s sake? Quit defending him.” Harold snapped and George frowned. He pulled out a phone, and he rang the police. 

“I’m not defending him! Bertie, are you alright enough to explain to the police what’s happened?”

He nodded, looking over at his sister. “Please call an ambulance, too.” George nodded, turning away. 

Bertie covered his face, letting the tears fall.


	3. the gang interrogate stephen and george has powers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lot happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // very vivid descriptions of homophobia

When Lucy got a telephone call at 9PM, she did not expect it to be from the police saying that her daughter was in hospital and her son was down at the police station answering questions.

After everyone had picked their kids up, they had all rushed to the Wong household for an emergency parent meeting.

Ethel Trilling was the first to speak. 

“So, what in tarnation just happened with our kids? Specifically yours.” she said not unkindly, looking over at Lucy and Felix. Ethel Trilling was a willowy, dark skinned woman with a strong voice and masses of curly hair. Michael, her husband, hummed in agreement. He was also dark skinned, with an afro. He smelled like sandalwood, and he was nice enough. 

Jie Jie had served everyone some nice, sweet, warm tea. All the kids were upstairs. 

“God knows. I knew that Stephen and Bertie were having an argument, but I didn’t know what about. Bertie told me that he tried to kill him, and then proceeded to attack Daisy with that knife.”

“ _ Dios mio _ , your poor kids. I never trusted that Bampton boy, mm-mm.” Tia Price piped up, and Lucy nodded in agreement, and there was a mutual hum. 

Tia Price was a Portuguese woman, and she was a Jewish convert. She had curly, dark hair and dark brown eyes, tan skin and a sterling white smile. She always wore red lipstick, and she was kind. Her husband, William, was Welsh and of Jewish descent. He was pale, with dark hair and green eyes. Everyone respected the Price family, they were possibly the only parents that had never fought with the others before. 

“I thought he was a nice enough kid, really.” Riya Mukherjee interjected. Riya was a soft-spoken Bengali woman with long hair, and she always wore pretty saris. Mangaldas sighed. 

“I say we pull our kids out of school.” Nour El Maghrabi added. Ethel, Tia, Michael, Will, Helen and Nikolai all nodded. 

Helen and Nikolai Arcady were Alexander’s parents, and Helen was a small American woman with fair, curly hair and hazel eyes. Nikolai was rather tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. 

“Absolutely not.” Vincent Wong spoke. “You can pull yours out, I won’t stop you, but are you really that scared?”

“Somebody slashed at my daughter and tried to kill my fucking son!” Lucy snapped, and everyone turned to face her. “Have you seen what that boy did to Daisy? Do you want to see the photos? What if he’d killed her? Would we even be having the conversation? No, we wouldn’t! So, of course I am scared!”

“Stephen’s been detained, but those streets still ain’t safe, I know it.” Michael said. Riya nodded. 

“I have a feeling that Verity girl’s death wasn’t a suicide. The way those policemen handled it? Mm-mm. Something’s off, and Michael’s right.” Riya interjected, and there were more nods.

Nour El Maghrabi sighed. “Well, who was it then? Do we all suspect the Bampton boy?”

There was a mutual nod. 

“What if the police let him go?” William asked, his arm around his wife’s shoulder.

“They wouldn’t dare.” Omar responded. “They’d be mental otherwise.”

***

There was a thud, and George sighed. Daisy picked herself up off the ground and brushed herself off. George swung down and he turned to Daisy. 

“Are you trying to alert the parents that we’re sneaking out, Wells?” George hissed. 

“Well, I stuck the landing, didn’t I? Leave me be.” She huffed, and she turned away. She still hesitated, as if there was someone she was waiting for. At that exact moment, Amina swung down gracefully, landing on her feet with a flourish and straightening out her creme turtleneck and tucking it back into her red flared jeans. 

She smiled at Daisy. Alex and Hazel stared at each other, blushing. Everyone seemed to be so romance orientated. So...obsessed with having someone else to “complete them,” so much so that it got on George’s nerves.

He didn’t ever want romance. 

When they arrived at the Mountfitchet home, Daisy dragged them all along the winding corridors, down to her room. It was big, George supposed. Everything was in absolute pristine condition, to George’s relief.

He looked around, and Daisy wheeled out a board, some red yarn, pins, and a load of photos. 

“Murder board!” she announced excitedly, eyes shining. George couldn’t help but smile. Of course, murder boards only existed in those cheesy American detective flicks from the 40s, but Daisy had seemed to make that a reality.

“I’m going to need you all to focus.” she said, starting to explain various things about the deaths and disappearances around town, and Stephen. She then asked Henry more about Verity, pinning her year 9 school photo to the board after Henry said it was okay to do so. 

George looked away from the board, and he looked around, picking up an old photo of a glamorous looking family. The mother had a quaint smile on her face, her hands on her willowy son’s shoulders and a smile on his face too. There was a father, and he did not smile. He stood there, his daughter in front of him with a beaming smile.  _ “The Wells family, 1959.” _

George gasped, and his nose started to bleed, and his grip on the photo tightened. 

_ “Smile, you stupid girl!” A woman hissed, shoving her small daughter to the front of the family photo. “And you, Albert....you should count your lucky stars you’re even being included in this photo after the rumors.” _

_ He nodded and faced the front, smiling, but he was shaking, as if his mother was digging her long nails into his shoulders just a tad bit too hard. _

_ “At least make an effort to smile, darling.” she said, turning to her husband. He looked at her, and then at the camera, a stone-cold look on his face.  _

_ “I’m leaving. You can look after Daisy and Bertie yourself.” _

“George! Didn’t you hear me? I said, put that photo down!” Daisy shouted, wrenching it out of his grasp.

He wiped at his nose, and Daisy wiped at the photo, sighing heavily.

“Mind telling me what on earth-?”

“I’m sorry. I was just curious about who was in the photo, and then my nose started bleeding when I read the caption, and then I could see a woman talking to her son-” George cut himself off, and they all stared at him. 

“Powers,” Henry muttered. “Earlier, Bampton said something about powers. What if- What did you see, George?”

“I saw a woman telling her daughter to face the front. And she pushed her, and then she turned to her son and said that he should count his lucky stars he was even being included in this family photo after the rumors-”

“Shut it. You’re not funny.” Bertie hissed, earning a glare from Harold, a sort of glowering warning look. “Sorry, George.” he mumbled, looking away after George gave a half smile in thanks. 

Daisy sighed and moved on. “What about we pin a summary of what just happened to the board?”

Henry nodded, and handed her two pieces of paper. One with, “powers?” scribbled on it, and a summary of what just happened. 

George shuffled. 

“Hey. what about this disappearance?” Amina asked, pointing at a name on a list Daisy had made. Elizabeth Hurst. 

“What, the girl that outed Enid Gaines and Lettice Prestwich and disappeared a week later?” Henry asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Amina nodded. 

George remembered everyone reading the article that had been published in the Albuquerque Secondary newspaper.

_ Enid Gaines and Lettice Prestwich are dykes! _

_ Can you believe that the stellar student on her way to Oxford and the anorexic girl no one likes were found getting it on in the girl’s toilet? Don’t believe me? Here’s the proof: _

Attached was a photo of Enid Gaines and Lettice Prestwich, Enid’s hands on Lettice’s shirt buttons and Lettice’s hands on Enid’s bare skin. George felt sick whenever he remembered how those poor, poor girls were shunned.

Elizabeth Hurst, the girl behind the aforementioned article, disappeared a week later, and Enid and Lettice had disappeared just before. No one went looking for either girls, but there were multiple search parties out for Elizabeth.

George, to this day, still secretly hoped she wasn't found. She didn't deserve to be rescued, wherever the fuck she was. 

"Yeah, I hated that girl. Anyways, pin it up, Wells." Henry said, bopping her head to a song that had come on the radio. She asked Alfred to turn it up. So there was a picture of Elizabeth Hurst there, with the picture of Enid and Lettice attached with the article, along with an article on the "gay epidemic" that was apparently sweeping through Britain. 

"I say we make a direct connection between Enid, Lettice and Stephen. Something's off there." George noted, and Daisy nodded, but there was a question mark along aforementioned link. 

Amanda folded her arms and started muttering in Portuguese. "This is stressing me out so much. What if I break out? I'm blaming that on you, Wells." she said, rubbing her hands over her face and intaking loudly.

"Which one of us?" Bertie asked, turning to his friend.

"Both," she said finally in English before turning back to her rambling in Portuguese. 

"Back to the topic at hand. So, we all agree these disappearances are strange?" Amina said, and everyone nodded. 

"You heard about Henry Melling's disappearance?" Alfred asked, taking a drag of his pipe. "That shit doesn't seem normal, if y' ask me. Not that I give a fuck." 

"If you ask _me_ , it's just rude white people disappearing." Harold scoffed. Bertie nudged him. 

Henry shook her head, but George could see her holding back a smile.

"We'll add to this if anyone disappears." Hazel said, folding her arms and blushing when Alexander wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled encouragingly. George rolled his eyes. Alexander and Hazel were painfully in love with each other, and they had been since the Wongs and Alfred first showed up in the neighbourhood. Helen and Alex went to go welcome them, and George watched from his window as Alex did that strange hesitant thing as if the air had been knocked out his lungs as he shook Hazel's hand. 

"I have a feeling that none of this is going to be ending anytime soon." George said. "Let's get back to the Wongs'. The parents'll be looking for us."

So they snuck back to the Wongs', and George couldn't help but feel like things were going to get worse. 


End file.
